Marina Tsvetaeva published her first verse in 1911, wrote poems between 1918 and 1920 in praise of the White armies and their fight against Bolshevism, and produced the greater part of her work in Western Europe, where she emigrated in 1922. Her poetry of whirling and staccato rhythms is uneven in quality, but forceful and original. She returned to Russia in 1939 and committed suicide two years later.

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I have pleasure in applying for the advertised position as dishwasher in the LiterFund's dining room. M.Tsvetaeva26th Aug, 1941

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With a red brush

The mountain-ash burned:

The leaves were falling

And I was born.

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Autumn

Winter

Spring

Summer

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🔊

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✑BIOGRAPHY

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"...Amidst the dust of bookshops, wide dispersed

And never purchased there by anyone,Yet similar to precious wines, my verse can waitIts time will come."